


Unforgiven Love

by lyn452



Series: Jonerys Week 2019 [5]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Crossover, F/M, False Accusations, Smut, Star-crossed, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 09:25:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19391242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyn452/pseuds/lyn452
Summary: Day 5. Song and Lyrics. Game of Thrones/Atonement. In 1935, the tension between Jon and Daenerys is growing, and it doesn’t just seem to be the heat of the day. In 1939, Jon finds himself at war thinking of the woman he can return to if he lives through this hell.





	Unforgiven Love

**Author's Note:**

> (Hasley - Coming Down)
> 
> I found a martyr
> 
> He told me that I’d never
> 
> With educated eyes
> 
> And his head between my thighs
> 
> I found a savior
> 
> I don’t think he remembers
> 
> ‘Cause he’s off to pay his crimes
> 
> And he’s got no time for mine
> 
> I’ve got a lover, a love like religion
> 
> I’m such a fool for sacrifice
> 
> I’ve got a lover and I’m unforgiven
> 
> I’m such a fool to pay this price 
> 
> Every single night pray the sun will rise
> 
> Every single time make a compromise

_(Northern France 1939)_

Jon gripped his gun tighter. Grenn was talking, always talking. It was annoying, but Jon didn’t want to lash out unnecessarily. They were in enemy territory and they were all over-stressed. Still, it was annoying.

“...so this girl. This girl has got some of the biggest tits you’ve ever seen…”

There was a noise to the left. Jon ordered the men (or Grenn) to quit and hide. Well, technically he didn’t order anything as he was the lowest private in the group. But they looked to him more than they did the actual lieutenant, Samwell Tarly. Jon readied his gun, prepared to shoot whatever the threat was.

The threat turned out to be a bunny, and Jon did shoot it. They started a fire and ate the first food they’d had in several days. Jon knew they had to get to the rest of the army, the retreat from France was scheduled to begin in the morning. He had to be on one of those boats. He had to live through this damned war and get back to Dany.

Grenn was talking again, but Jon ignored him this time. He thought of Dany instead. The most beautiful woman he’d ever known. They’d had so little time together, at least romantically. They’d been raised in near the same household, but their romance had ended before it barely got time to begin. 

He’d seen her before he left for the front. Had told her it was foolish to wait for him, as they barely even been a couple. She’d gotten angry with him for that. Told him, “If you think throwing away my entire family to be with you is nothing, then I don’t know what to tell you, Jon Snow. But I will wait for you and you will survive this war and we will live together afterwards in a house with a red door and a lemon tree.”

That had ended the fight and his attempts at noble sacrifice. He had a picture of her in his breast pocket. It was already getting worn because he looked at it every time he had a spare moment. 

“Are you listening, Lord Snow?” Grenn had asked. 

“Not really,” Jon answered with an honest shrug, earning him laughs from Sam and Edd. He noticed the rabbit was finished, so he began putting out the fire. They needed to get to the beach. He needed to get back to Dany.

What had she said to him? Those months ago before he shipped out. He remembered the busy dining hall, remembered how simple yet still beautiful she looked in her nurses uniform. “Come back. Come back to me.”

He had to. He couldn’t let her down. Not again. He looked to the other men, “We need to move out. They’re leaving at first light.”

“God almighty, Lord Snow, but you are pushy,” Grenn complained. But Samwell, the actual superior officer said nothing, so Jon continued to lead them out of these woods and to the beach that was supposed to be a few miles away.

Aemon Targaryen had told him once after he’d been released from jail and joined the army that he’d be willing to pull some strings, get Jon delivering Targaryen supplies rather than serving on the front lines, maybe even working as a medic.

Jon had refused. He was done with Targaryens and their favors. He only had interest in one Targaryen anymore and she had taken the name Stormborn until he returned to her from the war so that he could give her his own name. 

“Come back to me.”

He thought about lighting a cigarette, but it was too dangerous. They began walking, not speaking a word to each other. Jon didn’t know much about the other two men. Didn’t care to know about them either. The army may have been retreating from France at the moment, but they’d be back. This war wouldn’t be over for a long time.

Planes flew overhead and all four men looked up. The planes didn’t attack, not that Jon really expected them to. Why bother attacking four lost men?

Still Grenn couldn’t keep quiet and he commented, “Some poor sod’s gonna catch a packet.”

They had to keep moving. 

“Come back to me.”

He just wanted to go home. Have the clock reset and resume his life. He thought about the house Dany wanted, a red door and a lemon tree. She had been very specific about that. But then Dany had always loved lemons and red was her favorite color. 

He wanted to go home to her. He wanted to go back to when he’d been walking across the Targaryen estate in his best suit with a swagger in his step on the promise of life. He wanted to again be the man who, with the clarity of passion, made love to Daenerys Targaryen in her library. Their story could resume. He would return. He would find Dany, love her, marry her, and live without shame.

“I just hope if something gets me it’s quick.” Why was Grenn still talking? “It’s like that Dickens quote, _it’s not death, but dying that’s terrible_.”

“Fielding said that, not Dickens,” Jon corrected.

Samwell looked at Jon, “You’re right. How did you know that?”

Jon had been studying to be a doctor, but he didn’t really want to get into all of that. But of course, Grenn wouldn’t just leave well enough alone. “Bloody hell, Lord Snow, I thought at least Sam had book smarts on you. Why are you just a private?”

“I can’t be an officer,” Jon answered.

“Why not? You’re better than Tarly.”

Samwell didn’t defend himself, but Jon defended him anyway when he confessed, “Not eligible for officers’ training if you join direct from prison.”

“Bullshit,” Grenn said. “You’re pulling my tit.”

“No, I’m not,” Jon said. He could hear something just over the ridge. “They gave me a choice. Stay in prison or join the army.”

“What was your crime?” Edd asked.

“I was born poor and a bastard.” A burst of gunfire stopped the questions.

* * *

_(England 1935)_

Daenerys braided her silver blonde hair, studying her reflection in the antique mirror. Like all the furniture in their house, the mirror had once been expensive. Now it was worn and past its time to be replaced. But her once noble family no longer had the money for such extravagances. Perhaps because they wasted it all on expensive furniture back in the day. She looked around at the pieces in her room, all once expensive, now all dated and past their prime.

Much like her family. The Targaryen name still held power, but its power wasn’t what it once was, not now that they no longer had the money to back it up. 

But Rhaegar was working to fix that. He was always working, but he was finally coming home for a visit. He’d telegraphed he was bringing Viserys as well, which Daenerys wasn’t so happy to hear. But she would put up with Viserys for the chance to see Rhaegar.

Daenerys was looking forward to seeing her older brother. 

Rhaegar was doing his best to get the family finances back in order. He talked to all the right people, made the right investments. It was past the days of political or arranged marriages, but he only ever allowed himself to court women from money, like Elia Martell or Lyanna Stark.

Daenerys knew that someday it would be her turn. That the only reason she was being permitted to go to college was for her Mrs. degree. She was expected to find some man with the right name, the right class and the right amount of money to marry. And she did her duty. She went to the right parties and flirted with the right men.

She even spent some time with Jon’s friends, pre-meds with lordships coming to them and long family histories. Theon was a pig, but Robb was nice enough. He just never could keep her attention. Her eyes always went back to Jon. At school, he was both familiar to her and a stranger. In school she was forced to see him through the eyes of her friends, who saw him as the handsome pre-med, which always angered her, when they would gossip about him and admire him. She wanted to scream that Jon was hers, even though she knew she had no right to such a thing.

It confused her. He confused her. 

Their father was in his room, sick in the mind. He’d been in the same institution her brother Viserys once stayed at, but after one too many bounced checks and Aerys’ increasing violence, they were forced to bring him home. He never left his room, which suited everyone fine. Rhaegar had straps installed on the bed, and Aerys was strapped down more than he wasn’t. Sometimes Daenerys wished they would gag him as well, as she could hear the screams sometimes, “Burn them all. Burn them all.”

Jaime Lannister and Arthur Dayne had been employed as caretakers for the old man by Rhaegar. They mostly kept him strapped to his bed and sedated him. But if Aerys did break free, both men were big enough to keep him down and stop him from being a danger to anyone else in the house.

Finished with her braids, she left the room to look over the house once more for Rhaegar. It looked well enough. The few servants they still had cleaned the week leading up to Rhaegar’s return. She noticed the empty vase in the entryway and decided to fill it with flowers. Vases never went out of style, she thought. It was probably the most expensive item in their house anymore. She grabbed the expensive antique and walked out to the fountain.

Before she left the house, she saw Jon sitting on the stairs leading out of the house. Her stomach clenched at the sight of him and she wished they could go back to childhood days when he was an occasional friend and always servant. Despite herself she checked her reflection once more before proudly walking past him. 

Part of her had hoped to sneak past him, but a larger part had walked into his line of sight on purpose. Jon Snow didn’t disappoint, perking up at the sight of her. She asked, “Can you do me one of your roll-ups?”

She continued walking past him, but she could feel Jon follow. Like an eager puppy. “Beautiful day,” Daenerys said to distract herself from his presence. So close to her.

“I suppose so,” Jon replied. “Too hot for me.”

There was a pause in the conversation as they walked before Jon asked, “Are you enjoying your book?”

“No. Not really,” Daenerys answered. 

“It gets better,” Jon told her earnestly. Daenerys stopped to look at the man. He held out the cigarette he’d rolled for her. 

Daenerys took it, placing the rolled paper and tobacco between her long fingers. “I prefer Fielding any day.” She placed the cigarette in her mouth as Jon took out a lighter. She let him light it and inhaled the sweet smoke. It calmed her. Smoking always did. Her eyes met Jon’s. “Much more passionate.”

She walked away and was a bit surprised to find that Jon still followed her. She tried to keep up the friendly conversation. “Rhaegar’s coming today. Did you know?”

“I’d heard a rumor.”

“He’s bringing Viserys with him. Viserys might be bringing Drogo, the millionaire arms dealer.” 

“Are the flowers for him then? The millionaire?” Jon asked casually, but Daenerys caught the hint of something in his tone. Not jealousy exactly. More like curiosity, like he was trying to figure her out. 

“Why shouldn’t they be? Viserys says he’s very powerful.”

Jon grunted in affirmation. 

“I hear you’re planning to become a doctor.”

“I was thinking about it, yes.”

“Another six years of schooling.” It sounded awful to Daenerys. 

“How else do you become a doctor?” 

“You could get a fellowship now couldn’t you?”

“I don’t want to teach,” Jon said defensively, no longer walking with her. “I said I’d pay your brother back.”

Daenerys stopped and turned to face him. “That’s not what I meant.” She finished walking to the fountain. 

Jon had caught up with her. “Let me help with that,” he said. He grabbed at the vase. She tugged it away.

“No, I’m alright, thanks.”

“Let me help.” He grabbed at it again.

“I’m alright.” She tugged the vase away and it broke. A piece fell into the fountain. 

Daenerys glared at Jon. “Oh, you idiot. Do you realize that’s probably the most expensive thing we own?” 

“Not anymore,” he snarked.

She looked down and saw the piece. Unwilling to get her clothes wet, Daenerys stripped down to her slip. He looked away as Daenerys went into the water. She kept her eyes opened as she sumerged herself, her silver hair turning grey. She spotted the piece and grabbed it before reemerging. 

She stood on the lip of the fountain and her eyes connected with Jon’s, who apparently had stopped looking away. His eyes took in her form, her wet slip now clinging to her curves, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. Daenerys took a breath, not wanting to break the spell.

But Jon remembered himself and looked away. Daenerys dressed, humiliated and still angry. She grabbed up the vase. She could hear Jon’s breathing, see his adam’s apple bobbing, but he said nothing. She refused to say anything as well, walking back into the house with as much pride as she could muster.

She went to her room to change. Stupid girl, she berated herself. Stupid, stupid girl. She inhaled as she looked at herself in the mirror again. She was pretty enough. The Targaryens had always been known for their beauty, even with the generations of inbreeding. Still, she was a proper lady. What on earth possessed her to do that in front of him? 

Daenerys bathed and changed again. She tried not to keep thinking about it, but her book was dull and Rhaegar wasn’t here yet, so she had nothing but her thoughts to entertain her. Why had she done that? Her mind kept replaying the scene over and over. She kept focusing on that intense look in his eyes when he saw her in her wet underthings, saw that fire in him he was so careful to keep locked away, contained. 

Why was she focusing on that? This was Jon for gods’ sake. She’d known him since they were children together. 

Luckily, before she was able to drive herself mad with her circular thoughts, she heard a car coming down the driveway. She smiled at the thought of her brother and stood up to run out and greet him. 

There were three people in the car instead of the two she’d been expecting. At first she thought Viserys had brought Drogo, and she ignored the dread she felt at the thought, not wanting to examine what that meant. But then she recognized the third party, Doreah. She’d been a friend, still sort of was one, but Daenerys had learned that the woman could not be trusted. 

Doreah must be with Viserys again, which meant business must be good. Daenerys knew they were always on and off, much like her friendship with the woman. Doreah had no pedigree to speak of, but her father was poised to make a fortune if the war came. New money and an old name would be a marriage that would benefit both. With Viserys working with Aemon now, it made sense they were back on again. The Targaryens were investing heavily in the potential war as well, they would all rise together if the war came.

Nevermind the horrors the war would bring with its profits. 

Daenerys had once asked Doreah about love, and she’d laughed at her. “Oh Daenerys, love is for the men you keep on the side. Like that tasty gardener of yours.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

But Daenerys had shut down at the implication and their friendship had gone to off again.

She ignored both Doreah and Viserys, throwing her arms around Rhaegar instead. She was glad to see Rhaegar again, assuming as everyone else in the household did that he’d be announcing which woman he planned to engage himself to. She pulled away and then nodded to the other two to greet them. 

“It’s good to see you again, Dany,” Rhaegar said. “Though I hear you’re being quite rude to him lately.” 

Daenerys stiffened. “Did he tell you that?” Had they talked to him as they drove in? 

“No, of course not. Jaime mentioned something about it,” Rhaegar said. “Though I invited Jon to dinner on the way in and I expect you to behave.”

Daenerys wasn’t ready to see Jon again. Not so soon. “No. Go down and disinvite him.”

“Why?” Rhaegar looked at her closely. “Has something happened between the two of you?”

“For gods’ sake.” Daenerys stomped back into the house. 

* * *

Jon pulled on his workman’s gloves. He’d spent his lifetime gardening for the Targaryens, so this was the first time the worn leather felt strange on his hands. He’d grown used to college and the tools of a student and doctor. He’d grown to love the precision and delicate nature of such instruments. 

“Jon,” Doreah called out. Jon knew it would be rude to ignore her, but he never could stand Dany’s friend. Technically, she was Viserys’ friend, but as far as Jon was concerned that just made her worse. 

She stepped in his path, as Jon attempted to carry the tree he was planning to plant with before going back to his mother and preparing himself for the evening. He stepped around her, ignoring her frown. “Are you coming tonight?”

Jon knew the answer was yes. Daenerys would be there, so he would be as well. He bent down, placing the tree in the hold he’d just dug. “I’m not sure yet,” he lied. “I need to check with my mother first. She may have other plans for us. I’m home to visit her.”

Doreah pouted. “That’s a shame though it’s nice to see a man so close with his mother. Most men are fools who pretend to be above such things.” 

Jon said nothing, putting dirt over the tree’s roots. Daenerys would have seen through that lie, he thought. She would have known that Wyalla Snow would never let Jon pass up an opportunity to mingle with what she saw as her betters. People she insisted were Jon’s people as well. 

Doreah attempted to gain Jon’s attention a few more times, but as he ignored her, she eventually gave up, stomping away. Jon breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad to be rid of her. He knew Viserys was a twat, but she was the girl who kept insisting on dating him. How were her bad dating choices Jon’s problem?

When he finished with the tree, he walked back to his mother’s house, ready to take a bath and wash the dirt off of him. He stripped off the glove and began unbuttoning his collar. The motion reminded him of what he’d seen at the fountain after Daenerys had stripped down.

Everything. He’d seen everything Daenerys had to show. He pushed the image away, as walking grew uncomfortable and he still had a half mile to go. He thought of his mother instead. 

Wyalla was so proud of him. She had worked for the Targaryens since before she was his age. He’d once asked her about the rumor of him being a secret Targaryen when she’d been drunk once, which happened more than he knew was probably healthy. (She was a good mother, but never a perfect one.)

“Aerys Targaryen did once fuck anything that moved, and well, your mother moved back in her day. But he grew bored easily and always went back to his wife. That was years before you, my pet. Your father was some prestigious guest of theirs. A lord, I think. Pretty sure he was married. I don’t even remember his name now.” It went unsaid that she had probably been drunk and probably forgot more than just a name about that night.

It had once tortured Jon not to know who his father was, but he’d learned to live with it. It didn’t matter. He had one loving parent and that was more than some ever got. 

He threw his gloves down in the entryway and called out to see if Wyalla was home. He guessed she was probably still in the Targaryen kitchen, preparing the fatted calf so to speak. Part of Jon felt guilty for that, that he’d be enjoying his mother’s hard work and labor with the rich yuppies he’d heard her curse out more than once.

He stripped down and got into the bathtub. Immediately he began thinking of Daenerys. Of Daenerys’ nude body. Every moment he thought for another minute he could remember another detail -- her small breasts concealed by a lacy bra, her milky thighs, the thatch of hair between her legs that he could see despite her panties. His groin begged for attention but he ignored it. He had to. Once he gave in to whatever this was, he’d be lost forever. 

His experience was limited. His best college mates, Robb and Theon had taken him to a prostitute, but he hadn’t done anything with her. He’d been too nervous about having a bastard of his own, despite her assurances. There had been a girl, but it hadn’t lasted long as he’d been too focused on school, according to her. And he didn’t bother to fight for her because he knew she was right. 

Most of his social life revolved around his friends. Robb wanted to be a doctor to make his family proud. Jon had gone home with him on Christmas break and had wanted to stay with the Starks forever. He’d never felt so welcomed anywhere before. 

Theon said he wanted to be a gynecologist, but he seemed more interested in partying than studying. Jon doubted he’d still be in school the next year. But then Robb mentioned the pretty nurses they’d be around all day too.

Jon never really thought about it, the girls. He had no real interest in it. He’d always thought it was because he was duty-bound to be a good doctor. Rhaegar had taken a chance on him, and he wouldn’t let the man down. 

But seeing Daenerys there on the fountain, her thin dress see through, he knew that had all been a bunch of bullocks. He hadn’t been seriously interested in other women because he was already in love with one. Even when she was being mean and haughty, Daenerys was the only woman for him. 

And she was mad at him. He was well and truly fucked. 

Jon got out of the bath and dried himself off. He dressed, but not in his suit just yet, as that still needed to be pressed. He sat down at his typewriter, which was old but functional, as he maintained it well. He knew his mother wouldn’t have the money for a replacement and he couldn’t very well write papers for Cambridge by hand.

He tried to type Daenerys a letter. He tried again. Every attempt was too formal or not formal enough. Too revealing or not revealing enough. Part of Jon just wanted to type, “I’m Sorry” and be done with it. But he could just say that to her, and it wouldn’t be enough. He knew Dany. And she knew him. She knew he was no poet, but she would appreciate the effort. So he tried again. 

In a moment of madness, Jon wrote the unvarnished truth, “In my dreams I kiss your cunt, your sweet wet cunt. In my thoughts I make love to you all day long.”

It felt good to write, even if it meant he’d ruined another letter. He chuckled at it. The raw truth just spelled out for the entire world to see. He decided to keep the note though it would have to be hidden away. Jon was an honest man by nature, and sometimes it was nice to step away from society games and just tell the truth.

Even if only in private, only in his own mind. He folded the note and put it on his textbook. He then got out a fresh piece of paper and used a pen to write down a more civilized version of the truth. He wrote:

_Dear Daenerys,_

_You’d be forgiven for thinking me mad, the way I acted this afternoon. The truth is I feel rather lighthearted and foolish in your presence, Dany, and I don’t think I can blame the heat. Will you forgive me?_

_Jon_

Jon looked at the words and decided they were good enough. He let the ink dry as he went to polish his shoes and iron his shirt. When he returned, he looked over it again, then folded it once he was satisfied. He dropped it on the textbook as he looked for an envelope. When he found one he took the note and slipped it in, then tucked the other one away in the textbook.

He put the note in his jacket pocket as he finished dressing. 

* * *

He’d saved her once. Jon. Doreah remembered it like it was yesterday. They’d all been up at the lake, swimming. It was the year Jon and Daenerys had first gone off to university, and Daenerys had stopped talking to him for whatever reason. Doreah assumed it was because she had decided that she was too good for him suddenly. 

The rich were like that, or at least the formerly rich who still had a proud family name. All Daenerys had was that Targaryen name and she must have realized she had to live up to it. 

Still, it had made Jon moody, or perhaps more moody than usual. When they finished, Viserys and Daenerys went straight back, Daenerys finishing dressing first. Rushing through it, but giving Jon a pointed look before stomping off. Jon, on the other hand, took his time dressing. So Doreah had taken her time as well. She looked at the water before smiling at him. “If I fell in, would you save me?”

“Of course,” Jon answered. He didn’t seem to be paying attention though. His mind elsewhere.

Doreah would bring his mind back here. Back to her. She jumped into the water and let herself drown. 

It took several seconds for Jon to follow, but save her he did. When they both came up for air, she smiled at him. “You did, you saved me.”

He didn’t seem happy. He dragged her back to the shore without a word. 

Still, Doreah persisted. “You deserve a kiss, my white knight.” She looked down at his crotch meaningfully. “Or maybe more.” 

Jon looked disgusted. “Is that what that was about? It was bloody stupid, Dor. You could have died. I could have died. You might have killed us both.” He picked up what remained of his clothes and stormed off to his mother’s house.

She had never forgotten that. The look of absolute hatred on his face towards her. It had made her feel ashamed, which was the one feeling Doreah hated to feel. So she began to hate him. She still wanted him, but not just for fun anymore. She figured he’d be the perfect man to blame if she’d got pregnant from one of her other lovers. If her father asked, she’d blame it on Jon. she’d call it rape. No one would believe some servant boy, no matter how smart he was. He would take the fall and she would have her revenge.

She just needed an opportunity. So she hung outside his house, waiting to “accidentally” bump into him. He didn’t disappoint, he was ready and leaving early for the dinner. She walked across the road to get his attention. He ignored her at first, but eventually called out, “Dor, Dor.”

She smiled to herself before turning and looking for him. He caught up to her and held out a note. “Can you give this to Dany for me? You’ll beat me back to the house, and well…” Jon looked embarrassed. “I’d feel rather foolish giving it to her myself.”

Doreah smiled despite wanting to frown, why was it always Daenerys with him, and took the note. “Of course, anything for you, Jon.” She looked at it, curious. “Is it dirty?”

“No,” Jon said immediately, but then he frowned. His face turned back to his house, deep in concentration. “No, wait, Doreah, give that back to me.” Jon held out his hand.

Doreah stepped back. Interesting, she thought. What did it say? Jon reached out for it, “Doreah, I’m serious, give it back.”

Doreah took off. She heard Jon calling out after her, but she knew he wouldn’t dare run. The little bastard boy who lived down the lane worked too hard to be respectable, to rise above his name to look disheveled at a fancy dinner party. 

She made it back to the house in record time, and using the tricks Varys had taught her, read the letter before delivering it. She grinned at its message. Good little boy Jon had lied, the note was quite dirty. Jon was writing dirty notes to the Targaryen princess, interesting, Doreah thought. 

It was useful information. There was no longer any love lost between her and Daenerys, and if Jon wouldn’t bend to her wishes, she would make him. Or she would have her revenge on him.

She only needed a chance to do it. 

Daenerys walked in, “Hello Doreah,” she looked her up and down in that mocking way the rich did. “Is that what you’re wearing tonight?”

Oh yes, she would have her revenge. She handed Daenerys the note, sealed once more. “Of course not, it’s important to look our best for our men, isn’t it, Dany?”

“Our men, what are you talking about?” Daenerys frowned at the use of her nickname. Only her family ever used it. 

Or, more accurately, Jon and her family. Doreah smiled smugly as she walked out of the room, she heard Daenerys call for her shortly after, but didn’t bother answering.

Doreah finally had power over the Targaryen and she relished it. 

* * *

Daenerys answered the door. She normally would have let a servant do it and joined her brother for whiskey on the patio, but she wanted a chance to speak with Jon privately. He’d be the only one to ring the bell, so she decided to cut him off before he could join the rest of them.

He looked surprised to see her when she opened the door. It irritated Daenerys. It was her house, of course she’d be here. Everything about Jon irritated her lately. She knew it wasn’t fair and felt guilty as soon as he looked away, embarrassed. He explained quickly, “It was a mistake.”

She understood his urgency, just as fearful someone might decide to greet Jon as well. She explained just as quickly, “Doreah read it.”

“My gods, I’m so sorry. It was the wrong version.”

Version? How many versions had he written? “Yes.”

“It was never meant to be read.”

“No.”

She opened the door, allowing him to step in. She let him close the door as she walked to the library, hoping he’d follow without her having to tell him. He did and she was glad she hadn’t had to ask. Glad that he knew. He always seemed to know.

She took him to the library. He closed the door behind them as she turned on the lamp. Daenerys leaned on the desk and faced Jon. “What was in the version I was meant to read?”

Jon stumbled over his words. “I don’t know. It was more formal. Less…”

“Anatomical?”

It was his turn to have monosyllabic answers. “Yes.”

“It’s been there for weeks, months, years maybe, and then by the fountain this morning…” Daenerys cut herself off, walking away from Jon. “I’ve never done anything like that before. And I was so angry with you, and with myself. I thought if you went away to medical school then I’d be happy, but I don’t know how I could have been so ignorant about myself, so stupid.” She turned to face him again, tears in her eyes. She felt foolish for crying. “You do know what I’m talking about. You knew before I did.” 

“Why are you crying?”

“Don’t you know?”

“Yes, I know exactly.” He kissed her then. He kissed her and the world fell away. 

Daenerys hadn’t realized she wanted this until now. Until he kissed her and she understood this had been what she wanted. As she had no idea what she was doing outside what some of her friends had told her in their experiences with men (Doreah mainly) and what she’d seen in textbooks. But instinct took over and she followed what felt good, what felt right. 

Jon took charge, which was fine with Dany, as he either had some experience or knew more than her, as he seemed to know what to do next. He laid her down on the desk as he pushed up her dress. As promised, Jon kissed her cunt. Daenerys had been breathing harshly, but now she bit her lip to stop the scream of pleasure. They were not alone in this house and it wouldn’t do for anyone to stumble on them. 

He had began by merely kissing her down there but he moved on to licking her, tracing her lips with his tongue and then her slit from top to bottom. He then changed tactics and began to lap at her like a dog. He began to experiment testing what she seemed to enjoy best. It didn’t take him long to discover that sucking on her clitoris was best.

Daenerys enjoyed every moment of it. Her hips rolling against his mouth naturally and unknowingly. She was lost on the wave of pleasure he created for her. Finally when she couldn’t take it anymore, she tugged on his curls to bring him back up to her. He didn’t meet her right away, as he took a tissue from the desk to wipe off his mouth. It only took a moment, but it was a mistake as it gave them both a chance for their doubts to return. Daenerys sat up, carefully pushing her skirt back down. She licked her lips and stared at Jon’s. They were so plump. She pushed her doubts aside and caught him in another kiss. 

It was enough, as he pushed her back against the bookcase this time. They continued to kiss and Jon pushed down one of the straps of Daenerys’ dress. His mouth closed around her nipple and Daenerys’ hands sought out bare skin of Jon’s going under his shirt and pulling it free from his pants. 

Jon stepped in closer and Daenerys put a leg up on the nearby ladder. Jon took this as a sign to remove her panties, and Daenerys was glad he could read that much about her, as neither of them could stop kissing the other. 

Her hands went to his belt, undoing it as fast as she could. She sought out the hard appendage that had been poking at her since they’d been against this bookshelf. It felt strange to her, both soft and hard, smooth but she could feel the movement beneath the surface. Daenerys was proud to draw a moan from Jon with her inexpert stroking.

Jon maneuvered her so that he could enter her, taking her hand away from him. Part of Daenerys was disappointed as she’d been looking forward to returning the favor for him, but she was desperate to have him inside of her. 

It didn’t take long. He thrust into her and Daenerys gasped in pain at the uncomfortable intrusion. It was enough to get Jon to stop. His eyes connected with her and she said, “Jon.”

“Dany.” What had Doreah told her all those years ago? Love comes in the eyes. And unless his eyes lied, Jon Snow loved her.

It gave her the confidence to say, “I love you.”

“I love you,” he returned.

They kissed again, softer this time. He pulled back with a shudder, looking at her pleadingly and Daenerys nodded. Jon began to move. Daenerys threw her head back in pleasure until she met with a bookshelf. It felt so good. Almost too good. She brought her head back and began kissing him again. 

She loved him. She loved this man so much. This felt so good. She was trying to stay quiet, limit herself to gasps but sometimes a moan broke through. She was racing to the edge of a cliff, she could feel it, but she didn’t know what exactly she was chasing. 

She hoped Jon did. He seemed to, as he pulled back and looked at her once more. She brought him back to her kissing him again.

Faintly, Daenerys heard the door open. It took a moment for her brain to register what that meant, but when she did, she stiffened. “Someone’s just come in,” she whispered to Jon.

He had the same delay she did, seeking pleasure for a moment more before he recognized what she’d said. Then he stopped as well. 

Doreah walked in and Daenerys hated her in that moment. She would have hated anyone who walked in, but Doreah smirked and asked, “Well, what do we have here? The perfect Targaryen princess fucking the help.”

Daenerys and Jon began to untangle themselves from each other, straightening their clothes. Daenerys ignored Doreah, looking at Jon instead. She wanted to know if he would still make love all day as he’d promised in his note. 

His eyes said yes. 

* * *

Dinner was torture. Jon almost thought he shouldn’t have sat next to Dany, but the idea of being away from her now sounded even worse. 

She loved him. Daenerys Targaryen loved him. Jon knew that whatever else happened in this life, it wouldn’t matter. He could face it because Daenerys Targaryen loved him. 

The table made conversational small talk, but Jon barely heard. Under the table, his hand and hers kept brushing against each other. They weren’t holding hands, that wouldn’t have allowed for the freedom of discreteness, it was more like they were dancing with each other. 

It wasn’t until Jaime Lannister burst in that they separated. He said, “He’s gone. Aerys is out of bed. I went to the restroom and I got back and he was gone.”

Rhaegar was up immediately. “We’ll form a search party. He couldn’t have gotten far.” He pointed to Daenerys. “Dany, you’re with me.”

The look she gave Jon told him that she would have rather been with him. As serious as the situation was, Jon couldn’t help but think it might give them a chance to finish what they’d started. But there was no way for her to refuse her brother without drawing suspicions. So the search parties were formed and they went off into the night looking for a madman lost in the dark. 

While searching for Aerys, Jon found Doreah instead. “So, you’re fucking Daenerys. No wonder you brushed me off. I may have the money, but she’s got the name.”

He wasn’t fucking her, Jon wanted to say. He had been making love to her. They were in love. But this woman didn’t deserve to know that. He never should have trusted any note to her. “What do you want, Doreah?”

“You, Jon,” she stepped in closer. “I’ve always wanted you and the more you resist the more I want you.”

Jon tried to step around her, calling out “Aerys!” He wanted to get back to the search, back to something useful, but Doreah grabbed his forearm, digging her nails into him.

“Don’t you walk away from me, Jon Snow,” Doreah sneered. She then slipped back into a smile. “You’re too pretty to be wasted on just one woman. Come on, Jonny boy.”

“No,” Jon ripped his arm away. This time he forced his way past her. 

“I know too much, Jon, you can’t just walk away from me or I’ll tell Rhaegar about you and Daenerys.”

Jon stopped. He didn’t bother turning around, merely said, “I’m not going to be blackmailed by you.”

Doreah’s eyes wrinkled as she smiled. “But you know as well as I do that for all the esteem Rhaegar holds for you, he doesn’t want his sister to marry a Snow.”

Jon took in a deep breath. He knew she was trying to goad him and push his buttons. The problem was she was hitting the right ones. She took a step forward. “You’ll regret it if you don’t take my offer. I will destroy you, Jon Snow.” 

“No,” Jon walked away. 

It took hours before he finally found Aerys, ranting at the moon. Jon talked to him calmly and it took awhile but he finally got Aerys to follow him. The old man had never liked Jon, called him a half-breed. But at least he knew Jon. The last time Aerys had been found by police officers and they’d had to use force. 

As was, he got Aerys back relatively unharmed. The unbathed man smelled even worse now, and his long hair and fingernails were dirtier from wandering around the woods. 

When they had gotten to the house, Jon was surprised to find the cops, but a little glad to see them. Aerys got violent more often than not and Jon hadn’t been managed to get him back without issue. 

He expected that his return to put an end to the commotion.

Instead, it began it. 

* * *

The trial was bullshit. Daenerys and Wyalla alone stood at Jon’s side. Wyalla alternated between sobbing and screaming, “What have they done to my sweet boy?”

They had accused him of rape. More specifically Doreah had. She cried and told the cops about the letter Jon wrote her. She’d even had semen on her thighs and been a little bruised and bloody when she staggered up to the house that fateful night. Daenerys never did figure out if she’d tracked down Viserys (her new fiancee) to tell him to be a little rougher that night. Gods knew, Viserys was capable, and he wouldn’t care if Jon took the fall. Or if she’d just manufactured entire thing. 

Either way, what a fucking liar. 

Daenerys kept an arm around her to keep her calm enough not to get thrown out. Her family sat on the other side, and she glared at them as often as she could. She longed for a cigarette to calm her nerves, but they weren’t allowed in court. 

Rhaegar had disappointed her the most. He’d loved Jon too. How could he throw the good man away so easily? “Doreah said it was him. I have no choice but to believe her.” He had told her to justify his actions.

“Because it wraps up the whole incident rather neatly for you doesn’t it? Don’t want that marriage to Elia Martell in jeopardy.”

“Dany, don’t be like that.”

“No. Only men I love get to call me Dany.” She had pushed past him and refused to speak with him again.

He looked across the courtroom at her, with the melancholy look he wore so well, but Daenerys didn’t care. She made her choice. Jon was worth 10 of Rhaegar. She walked away from the Targaryens then and resolved never to return. 

Daenerys felt like a fool for ever trusting Doreah, for ever letting that viper into her home. How could she? How could she do this to Jon? To her? She remembered once cleaning Doreah’s thighs, wiping her tears and telling her to call the police when her brother had been too rough with her once. Doreah had refused. 

Daenerys was now sharing a small apartment with Missandei. She was a kind woman, but a colored one. They often got looks when they walked down the street together, it annoyed Daenerys, but Missandei accepted it with grace and patience. Daenerys found she admired the other woman for that, as her own temper would have made her snap years ago. 

The day Jon was convicted was the day that Daenerys walked away from her family for good. Even Rhaegar’s soft words couldn’t convince her to stay. He was a good man, but he was either a fool or complacent if he didn’t know that Jon was being punished for someone else's crime. She walked away from them all for good and never looked back. 

She thought, “If I look back, I’m lost.” 

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone hasn’t seen/read Atonement -- it’s a great example of how you do star-crossed/tragic love. (Unlike GOT, where the so called star-crossed lovers could have solved most of their problems by having a fucking conversation where Jon was allowed to talk like a person with emotions and Daenerys wasn’t in forced crazy tyrant mode. That’s the whole fucking point of star-crossed, it’s as if the stars themselves are keeping the lovers apart, not just the writers making up some lazy bullshit. Okay, rant over.) Though it’s called Atonement for a reason, which wasn’t explored in this story. I made it more of a revenge thing and cut it off most of the second part of the story aka the ending. 


End file.
